


Local Customs

by within_a_dream



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Feminizing Language, Forced Crossdressing, Forced Feminization, Gang Rape, M/M, Public Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:41:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27927685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/within_a_dream/pseuds/within_a_dream
Summary: Jaskier sows his wild oats in the wrong town, and finds himself at the mercy of a townful of men who intend to put him to good use
Relationships: Jaskier | Dandelion/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 64
Collections: Consent Issues Exchange 2020





	Local Customs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flawsinthevoodoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flawsinthevoodoo/gifts).



Jaskier should have known to stay out of the town. He didn’t even know its name – as far as he knew, there shouldn’t have been any towns in this part of the mountains at all, which should have been his first warning. The woman’s eagerness when he knocked at her door was the second warning. He’d stopped at the first cabin on the outskirts of town, and the woman had welcomed him inside with a sultry smile straight out of his fantasies. Jaskier should have known better, but he’d always had a bad habit of thinking with his cock. She took him into her bed, and Jaskier was having a delightful time until her husband arrived.

He dragged Jaskier off of his wife, and Jaskier had talked himself out of sticky situations before, but this might be one of the stickiest.

“My good fellow,” Jaskier said, trying to keep the strain out of his voice, “I do apologize. Your wife neglected to tell me that she was otherwise promised.”

“Did you ask?” The man, like his wife, had an accent Jaskier couldn’t quite place.

Jaskier couldn’t say that he had. The man had a firm grip – he wouldn’t be able to wriggle out of it. Jaskier had faced more than a few angry husbands, but this one seemed like his punches would have some force behind them. Perhaps a bit of grovelling would do the trick.

“Please, I beg your forgiveness. Or perhaps I could provide you something for your trouble – ”

“She ain’t a whore!” the man growled. “We have ways to deal with people like you.”

Jaskier didn’t like the sound of that. Worse than a beating, in his estimation. With his luck, they’d tar and feather him and run him out of town. “There’s really no need for that.”

The man didn’t even deign Jaskier’s protests with a response, just dragging him out the door.

  
  


When they arrived at a large building in the center of the town, the man dragged him inside and threw him on the ground. “Get your clothes off.”

Jaskier really hoped this wasn’t going where he thought it was going. “I’d rather not, if it’s all the same to you.”

He pulled a knife from his waistband, waving it menacingly in Jaskier’s direction. “Clothes off. Now. Unless you fancy them getting cut off.”

And Jaskier really didn’t fancy that. His doublet was expensive, covered in fine embroidery. A poor choice to wear when traveling, in retrospect. If he was lucky, he was only facing the tarring and feathering that minutes ago had been his worst case scenario. “As you wish, my good sir.”

He set his clothes carefully to the side, hoping the man would leave them be. No matter what happened, he’d want to be able to get dressed again afterwards. When he was naked, balls freezing off in the drafty room, the man moved for a trunk sitting against the wall, pulling a length of cloth out of it and throwing it at Jaskier.

“Now put this on.”

It was a dress, Jaskier realized, light blue with grey trim and scandalously short in the skirt, just large enough to fit him. Was it luck, or did this town have a store of dresses for men of every size? Jaskier wasn’t sure which would be more disconcerting. Aside from a few stains on the skirt, it was in good condition – worn, but clean and carefully mended. “It matches my eyes,” he murmured. “How thoughtful.”

“Just get dressed, you bastard.”

Jaskier complied. The dress stretched tight around his shoulders and hung loose in the waist, but for clothing some country bumpkin had pulled out of a trunk, the fit wasn’t half-bad. Without any smallclothes, the room was uncomfortably cold, goosebumps rising up along Jaskier’s legs.

The man grabbed his arm. “All right, outside with you.” Jaskier followed along, trying his best to keep from stumbling. They walked right back out to the edges of town, to the signpost Jaskier had passed on his way in. It pointed to the town center, the name too worn to make out, with something like a small steeple set beside it, an iron bell hanging inside it. Jaskier had assumed it was an alarm, to warn the villagers of fires or perhaps of invasions.

The man took a length of rope from within the steeple and forced Jaskier against it, binding his wrists to the poles.

“You’re not just going to leave me here.”

The man laughed. “As I said, we have ways to punish people like you. Coming into our town, corrupting our women. Well, you make a very pretty lassie, don’t you?” His hand cupped Jaskier’s arse, and damn it all, this was going exactly the way Jaskier had feared it would. It certainly put the stains on the dress in a new and unpleasant light.”

He rang the bell. “I’ll have you first, and then we’ll leave you here for anyone else who wants you. Don’t worry, you’ll be enjoying yourself by the end of it. A little slut like you, all you need is some nice hard cocks up your cunt to remind you of your place.”

The man spat in his hand, giving his own cock a few hard strokes, and then lifted Jaskier’s skirt and pressed the tip of his cock against Jaskier’s arsehole. Damn it all, this was going to hurt.

It did, no matter how Jaskier tried to relax. The man took an iron grip on Jaskier’s hips and fucked him hard and fast, heedless of Jaskier’s muffled shouts. Jaskier didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of a reaction, but it _hurt_ , and it set a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach to know that anyone walking by could see him like this.

The man pressed his lips to the place where Jaskier’s neck met his shoulder, and then bit down. “Shut up and take it, slut,” he muttered when Jaskier screamed in response. “The only people who can hear you out here couldn’t care less how you’re feeling.”

“Not a very gentle lover,” Jaskier snapped. He shouldn’t have, and he knew it as soon as the words left his mouth, but he had to do something with the anger welling up in his chest.

Infuriatingly, the man only laughed again. “You and me both know you don’t want any gentleness. You want it rough like the slut you are.” He slid a hand over Jaskier’s prick, which stirred at the attention despite the pain. “Look, you’re wet for it.”

Jaskier shut his eyes, trying to ignore the not-altogether-unpleasant way the pain in his arse mingled with the rush to his cock. He just had to make it through this, and then he could find a way to work his way free. He was good with his hands, and the rope felt frayed against his wrists. Until then, all he had to do was lean forward and let this man fuck him.

The man seemed determined to make it as miserable an experience as possible. Which wasn’t unexpected, but Jaskier had so hoped that he was just a cuckolded husband looking for a lay. With the dress and the hard thrusts and the constant stream of insults, Jaskier was really beginning to dislike the man.

When the man spent inside him, he gripped Jaskier’s cock hard enough to hurt. “There you go, darling. How’d you like that?”

“Leave me alone,” Jaskier muttered, his voice hoarse from shouting.

“No chance of that.” The man laughed. “I’ll be here all day, watching the town have their way with you.” He slapped Jaskier on the arse as he pulled out, leaving an unpleasantly warm streak of come to trail down Jaskier’s leg.

Jaskier heard the second man approaching, but couldn’t turn his head far enough to see him. He tugged at the ropes, but couldn’t pull his hands free. And what good would it do if he could? The man had a knife, and Jaskier was certain that at this point he’d be hard-pressed to walk straight, much less make a run for it. He’d just have to sit here and take it, and hope the village’s population was small.

“You’ve caught a nice one here,” the second man growled, sliding Jaskier’s skirt up to reveal his arse. “Look at that cunt, wet and waiting.” He slid in, and with Jaskier all slick with come it didn’t hurt as much as the first, but it did still hurt. Jaskier whimpered as the man reached up a hand to pinch his nipple. “Small tits, though. Ah well, you can’t have everything.”

He fell into a rhythm quickly, slamming Jaskier against the wooden frame. Perhaps it would break, Jaskier thought idly, although it seemed far too sturdy for that. Jaskier tried to keep his breathing steady, tried to ignore the pain and the – damn it all, something about this man’s thrusts was sparking pleasure deep in Jaskier’s gut. He didn’t want this, he didn’t want to be tied up and fucked by every man who wanted him, but his cock was getting hard all the same. And the man noticed, too. He grabbed Jaskier’s cock in a tight grip, giving it a stroke. “Oh, you _are_ enjoying this.”

“’M not,” Jaskier muttered, but he wasn’t even convincing himself.

The man kept stroking Jaskier as he fucked him, and by the time he spent into Jaskier’s arse, Jaskier was on the edge of spending himself. The man pulled away, not even giving Jaskier a final stroke to finish him off. And Jaskier _did_ want that, no matter how much he tried to deny that. His hips were jerking of their own volition, trying to make contact with anything. He could hear the men laughing at him, but he couldn’t stop his desperate search for friction.

They left him for what felt like hours before another man stepped up, and Jaskier was so desperate for touch that he immediately leaned into the man’s grasp on his hips, hating himself for it. The man caressed him like a lover, and it left Jaskier feeling sick how much he enjoyed that. The man kissed him on the neck, murmuring compliments about his blush, his bosom, his tight cunt. (“Won’t be so tight when we’re done with him!” one of the other men jeered.) Jaskier spent into his hand, and the way he clenched his arse afterwards brought the man off as well.

There was another man after him, and another, until all of Jaskier’s thoughts had been fucked right out of him. When they’d finally finished with him, his arsehole was dripping come down his thighs, too loose for him to hold it in even if he’d wanted to. He didn’t think he’d be able to walk, or sit on his horse. It felt wrong to be this empty.

The first man stepped up to him, patting him on the shoulder.

“Please,” Jaskier whispered, not sure if he was begging to be let go or to be fucked again.

“We’ll be leaving you here overnight,” the man said, a sick pleasure in his voice, “just in case anyone or anything else wants to take you. At dawn you’re free to go on your way.”

Jaskier whimpered as he walked away, and hoped with everything in him that he’d be left alone.


End file.
